


Getting Dave Out of There

by LokisGirl



Category: Metallica
Genre: Dave's insecurity, Excessive Drinking, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29063145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokisGirl/pseuds/LokisGirl
Summary: Dave's more than a little drunk at a party and starts to become a problem. James decides to take him somewhere he (probably) can't get in more trouble. Babytallica.
Relationships: James Hetfield/Dave Mustaine
Kudos: 16





	Getting Dave Out of There

Smash! Another beer bottle flies at Lars’ head. Dave is in a blind rage, blind drunk, and out of control. We were at a party, and some guy started making fun of Lars’ accent. Lars thought it was funny. Dave didn’t see it that way. He caused a huge commotion, punching the guy in the face and threatening to kill him. Lars told him to back off. That was when Dave turned on him. I was sure the cops would come any minute. 

I needed to get Dave out of there before he got us all killed or arrested. I grabbed the rest of my beer, maybe 7 or 8 left in the case, and bummed a joint off a girl who was happy to give it to me if I would take Dave away. I lured Dave with the smoke and the beers. 

We drove to a park. It was dark and deserted under the trees, peaceful. I hoped it would calm Dave down. He was ranting about how Lars always turns on him, how everybody’s always taking the other guy’s side. How no one really likes him, they just keep him around for his drugs. I had enough of his whining.

“Dave. Shut up. I don’t do drugs, remember? I’m right here with you. What does that make me?” I ask him. He looks at me, wide eyed in the moonlight. His hair is bronze in the dark. I put a hand on his shoulder, pushing his heavy locks out of the way.  
“James, you’re an exception. You’re always there for me. You’re the only one who gives a damn about me,” he says. I squeeze his shoulder in what I hope is a supportive sort of way. He’s pretty hard on himself. 

“Dave, don’t talk like that. You have all kinds of friends. Everyone likes you.” I take a swig of my beer, gesturing at him with the bottle. “I like you.” I find I’m playing with his hair. It’s soft and shiny, and it feels really good under my fingers.

“Do you, James? Are you just saying that to get me to make up with Lars so the band doesn’t break up?” His brown eyes are bright in the paleness of his face. He throws himself miserably on the grass, rolling onto his back. 

I pour myself on top of him, gently pinning him to the ground. 

“What are you doing?” he yelps, alarmed. He’s hasn’t used his karate training to throw me off yet, so I lean in and kiss him for the first time. This could get me severely beaten but I don’t care. This is the only way I can show Dave how I feel about him, how important he is to me. His surprised lips only protest for a second before parting to let me in. I taste his tongue, beer and cigarettes and something a little tangier which I can only guess might be marijuana. 

He’s still squirming beneath me, but he’s kissing me back so I take that as a good sign. I’ve only kissed two people before Dave. Now that I’m here, kissing him, I can’t even remember what they were like. My experience is irrelevant. My hands are back in his hair, supporting his neck. His movements spread his legs a little, my knee slipping between them. 

My thigh is wedged between his. Something is poking me. Oh my god. Dave’s hard. I made Dave hard. Dave, with all his sarcasm and bravado, wants me. I move against him, feeling the strong length of him through our jeans. He makes a sound that gets caught in his throat, in our mouths. 

I think he wants more. I’m not sure if he does, or if I do. I move to kissing his ear, his neck. I figure that’ll give him a chance to say no if he wants to. He just follows my lead, twisting his head so he can take a turn biting at the soft spot where my neck joins my shoulder. I cover his mouth with mine again. Our tongues probe, exploring one another. I drag my fingers down his long body, feeling the outlines of his ribs under his t-shirt. His hip bone is pointed under his skin.

I try to unbutton his jeans, but they’re really tight. It doesn’t work. I plunge the other hand between our bodies and yank hard. For a second that feels like ages I ‘m afraid I’m going to have to break contact to get them open- if we stop for anything, one of us will realize what we’re doing and call it off. Miraculously I get the button undone and manage to pull his zipper down. 

The heat is coming off him like a furnace. I’m starting to sweat. My palms are slick and a little sticky. His hands are up the back of my shirt, pulling me closer when I need to get a bit further away. There’s no room to move.

I kiss him hard and put a hand on his chest to make space. My other hand digs in his pants, slipping against soft skin and tangled pubes until my fingers find him. Hot and hard, his cock is discordantly foreign and familiar. I have a strange sensation that I should feel it in my nerves when I stroke him. I do feel it; though it’s a completely different sort of arousal than I get from touching myself. Dave freezes; he’s still not trying to stop me.

My movements are tentative at first. I open my eyes to see how he’s reacting. There’s nothing to see but some fiery hair and those intense eyes. There’s no half way with Dave. I go full out, jerking him as fast and as hard as I can. He bites at my lip, pulling at my jeans. I’m totally worked up; reminding myself that this is about him, I knock his hand away with my elbow. Slowing my strokes a little, I’m rewarded with another moan. This one is softer, needier. What I hear is ‘don’t stop.’

His skin feels wonderful under my fingertips, warm and responsive. I run my thumb over his slit, feel the spreading liquid from his precum lubricating my hand. Dave’s body is relaxing beneath me, enjoyment draining the tension from him. The universe is collecting itself, contracting down to nothing except Dave’s cock and my hand. I sense his blood pumping under my fingers. I start to lose track of where I stop and he begins. 

I squeeze and milk him, whispering into his ear. “Come for me, Dave. Come for me.”

His voice is strangled by excitement. “Yeah, oh fuck yeah James, yes!” He spills his insistent seed over my hand. I wipe it on the grass and finish my beer while Dave stares at the sky. 

“James?”

I cower inwardly. Here’s the bit where he calls me a fag and never speaks to me again. “Yeah?” I ask nervously.

“Did you… you know.”

“No,” I answer truthfully. My dick’s still a rock in my shorts. It’ll go away, maybe when Dave’s gone. 

“Can I do you next?” he asks.

I’m sure everyone in California can see the white of my grin lighting up the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted elsewhere 2014-ish. 
> 
> Good lord. How much bloody Metallica porn did I write?


End file.
